


Sugar and Spice

by Mad_Dream



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Relationships, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Desserts, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Female Hans (Disney), Female Kristoff (Disney), Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Frenemies, Genderbend, Kristjana the Baker, Male Anna (Disney), Male Elsa (Disney), Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:42:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28784385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad_Dream/pseuds/Mad_Dream
Summary: Kristjana "Kris" Bjorgman didn't have many dreams or ambitions. But she did have one: becoming the proud owner of her Pabbie's bakery, the Little Clover, that's she worked at since she was 10. She's worked tirelessly, invented new recipes, and expanded the space into a café all on her own. Just when she thinks she's about to be given the keys for good, a powerful holding company comes in to turn the Little Clover into a chain business. And the owner of the company's first act is to hand Kris' bakery over to his spoiled, charming grandson, Anders Johansen.Kris isn't going down without a fight, and neither is Anders. Will she burn down her competition to keep the Little Clover alive or will she be swept up in the sweet and spicy allure that hides behind Anders' smile?
Relationships: Andy/Kristjana, Anna/Kristoff (Disney)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	Sugar and Spice

There were three factors in life that defined what kind of person you were: flavor, fluff, and buttercream. Each variable had the power to alter one’s perception of themselves and others. From the type of flour picked and kneaded to the delicate shell of frosting painted along a cake’s edge--everything is by design. A delicately crafted illusion that separates the dreams from the macabre. These defining factors were a rule of thumb, if you will, in understanding the root of someone’s character. 

And Kris knew character.

She saw it all the time when children dropped their allowance on the counter and pointed to the largest cupcake in the display case. When school girls drooled over the most intricately decorated kransekake, but default to the same non-fat latte their friends ordered. When trophy wives ask ten times in a row if the flour in an almond bar is gluten free. And, even when men stumble in and say they’re ordering for just a friend, but their eyes are glued to the most intimate looking cheesecakes on the specials board. 

Kris knew people all too well.

Too well in fact. A few exchanges of words was all she needed to know if she didn’t like someone. Which was...mostly everyone. After many trials and errors among classmates and strangers, a simple order or a single bite into a dish was the spoiler to a book she was never truly invested in.

Her mother called it an excuse into being antisocial. She liked to think of it as a superpower.

A superpower that was being called upon once again as the man in front of her clucked his tongue. He ran his hand through his hair for the umpteenth time, trying to smooth an unruly cowlick that sprung up undeterred from his fumbling. He squinted at the menu over her head. 

“Could you tell me your specials again?” He asked. He rubbed the back of his neck, flexing his meaty arm in the process. He chuckled. “I have the worst memory.”

Kris fought the urge to roll her eyes. She forced a tight lipped grin, but the tone in her voice was flat.

“We have buy one, get two on any liquor flavored cupcakes. Three for five for any of our wine fusion macarons. And if you use the card you have with us, just order one thing and get a complimentary cupcake.” She said.

Cowlick clucked his tongue. “Darn. Don’t seem to have a card.” He leaned closer against the counter. “You got any free samples?” 

Kris breathed deeply through her nose and moved to the display case. She plucked a miniature stick from a cup and scooped a small dollop of mauve colored frosting from a case. She held it out to the man.

“Free sample of our new frosting,” she said.

He took it, arching a brow at her before putting it in his mouth. He hummed quietly and wrinkled his nose.

“Sweet,” he said, coughing to cover his gag. “Real sweet.”

Kris tilted her head to the side and batted her eyes. “I can get you a whole batch if you want.”

“N-no! That’s alright. I think I’ll come back to try something else later.”

In three steps he was gone. The tiny bundle of bells ringing above as the door closed. Just as he left, the door to the kitchen burst open. Rye narrowed her eyes at Kris.

“What?” Kris asked.

Rye stormed towards her, poking her in her chest. “You did that on purpose.” 

Kris flushed. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Rye threw her hands in the air, letting thin wisps of flour flying across her face. She then grasped Kris’ shoulders, her powdered fingers digging into her. Kris would admit to having more meat on her bones than Rye did, but even she had to wince at the powerful digits that practically clawed into her shirt and skin.

“He was going to ask you out!” Rye groaned. “Why would you scare him away with the glossy cream? No one likes the glossy cream!”

Kris struggled to shake her off and went to pull the dark red icing from the top of the display case. She cradled it to her chest.

“No one likes the glossy cream,  _ yet. _ ” Kris said. “Just as soon as I get the consistency right it will be our next big thing.” At Rye’s snort, she added, “Besides, he was obviously not a sweets guy. He was in here the other day with one of our regulars, and he ate all of her sour cream raisin bars. Anyone with that kind of taste who can’t bother to buy his own, is in desperate need of therapy.”

Rye crossed her arms. “Or laid. He could’ve just needed to get laid. Kind of like someone I know.”

Kris shoved the tin of icing to Rye. She yanked the towel stuffed in the waistband of her apron and moved to start wiping down one of the tables. 

“Then next time, I’ll be on baking duty,” Kris said, “and you can get laid by the next sour cream bachelor.”

Rye stuck her tongue at her. “Maybe I will. That’s what the Little Clover is for after all.”

As soon as the words left Rye’s lips, the two flicked their gazes to the portrait hanging over the fireplace. Amidst the waterfall of yellow and red flowers that spilled throughout the painting, in the center stood a man with a wooden cane. Despite the tranquility in the painting, a stern expression settled on his features, almost glaring down at them. They blinked at the painting, then at each other. A snort escaped Kris until they were both doubling over in laughter. 

“I should tell Pabbie,” Kris gasped in between chuckles, “that you said that.”

“Oh god, please don’t,” Rye said, already retreating to the kitchen. “I’d never be able to look him in the eye again.”

Kris shook her head, moving onto the next table to wipe down. Tucked in the town of Flekkefjord, the Little Clover was a bakery founded almost a century ago. Passed down from generation to generation it was as old as the fjords themselves. A historic and delicious relic that should have never been Kris’ to begin with. Kris felt the heavy stare of the man in the painting and shook her head.

“Yet,” Kris sighed. “It’s not yours yet.”

Her inner chiding was interrupted by the clinking of bells. She cursed under breath, having forgotten to change the sign when Cowlick left. She continued to scrub down on a particularly stubborn bit of dried frosting while the footsteps came closer to her.

“Sorry, we’re about to close up for the night,” she said over her shoulder.

The footsteps paused. Kris was expecting them to return the way they came, but when the silence stretched on she ceased her scrubbing. She could feel the newcomer hovering behind her until he finally cleared his throat.

“It’s okay, I’m not looking to buy anything. I was actually hoping to get directions.”

Kris straightened her back and turned. A man, just a few inches taller than her, stood at one of the tables near the fireplace. His forest green button down was unbuttoned and his sleeves were scrunched up to his elbows. His strawberry blonde hair stood every which way as it had never met a comb before. Kris would have passed him as one of the local college students visiting for the summer, if not for the yellow bruise splotching his cheek and the dried blood caked around his nose and upper lip.

Kris started, her hip bumping into the table. “You look awful!”

The man gave a weak smile. “It looks worse than it actually does.” 

Kris stumbled over words, but resigned herself to scanning the man over again. His button down hadn’t been unbuttoned, but ripped. The black t-shirt underneath covered in dirt. And his tan pants were scruffed and splattered in mud from the cuff up. He looked like it was dragged through a ringer and back again. The man fiddled with the strap of his shoulder bag, shifting from foot to foot.

“So, directions?” He squeaked.

He shrank under her impeding stare when the back door swung open. 

“Kris? I said did you finish the--oh,” Rye stopped at the counter. She ogled the man for a beat before she swerved over the counter. “What happened to you?”

Rye reached out and gripped his cheeks to turn him from side to side. The man flinched, groaning at her touch. Rye dropped her hand and looked him over.

“I’m going to get some ice,” she said. At Kris’ lack of movement or response, Rye batted her arm. “Kris, let the man sit. He looks like he’ll drop dead any second.”

The man instantly shook his head. “It’s fine, really! I just need directions to the nearest hotel.”

Kris blinked, then squinted her eyes on him again. Her gaze locked on the shoulder bag he clutched to him. Despite the speckles of dark mud splattered on its side, it still shone brightly like a toasted almond shell. Leather, she realized. She crossed her arms and frowned.  _ Expensive leather. _

“I don’t mean to be rude,” she said. “But why don’t you, I don’t know, call someone?”

The man flushed and bit his lip. 

“I...I lost my phone.” He said.

“Right.” Kris’ eyes flicked to the bag again. “Was it stolen? We can call the local police for you.”

“That’s not necessary. I really just need to find a hotel and--”

“It wouldn’t be a problem. Just a quick call. Quick ID check. Even if you’re not from around here, word gets around fast enough. It should be _easy_ to find your phone.”

The man stumbled over his words until he followed her gaze to his bag. He clutched it tighter to him as his own brows drew into a knitted frown.

“It’s fine,” he ground out. “I can just ask somewhere else if I’m bothering you.”

Kris tilted her chin in challenge. They glared at one another for a long moment before the man began to turn away. As he stepped to the door, Rye flew past Kris and grasped his shoulder. She mumbled her apologies at his wince and shoved a scrap of paper in his hand.

“The Moon Tower is 30 meters south of here. I wrote the address down for you. Just say Rye sent you,” Rye said. She grinned sheepishly, brushing a choppy strand of brown hair behind her ear and placed a bundle of napkins in his hands. “And these are cookies.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t!” He said, pushing the bundle back to her.

“Yeah Rye, he can’t,” Kris said. She hoped the glare she shot at her would make her hair catch fire.

It didn’t. Rye pushed the cookies back into his palm and clasped his free hand over them.

“I insist. You can pay me back later,” Rye smiled. At his troubled expression, she quickly added, “Joking! They’re on the house. I hope you find your phone.”

The man looked from their clasped hands to her and relented with a soft smile. He bowed his head to her.

“Thank you,” he said.

The bells jingled as he slipped out of the door. Rye waved at his disappearing silhouette through the glass door. She turned the open sign to close, then rounded towards Kris with a fierce expression. Kris arched a brow at her.

“What. Was. That?” Rye growled. “Could you have been more rude?”

“Rude?” Kris scoffed. “Did you see that bag? Why would someone looking like that be doing with something that expensive?”

“Don’t! Just don’t. You and the profiling! The guy was banged up and you wanted to interrogate him.”

“Rye, the bag was nearly in perfect condition. Are you going to tell me that that isn’t suspicious to you at all?”

“He takes care of his things well? I don’t know! What I do know is that you’re being ridiculously harsh as usual.”

Rye stomped past her, but not before Kris grasped her elbow. She shook her hand off, but Kris held onto her shoulder instead. Rye fought against her for two minutes before giving up under her strong grip.

“Okay, you’re right. I’m harsh and picky and other things,” she said. “Can you blame me for being on edge around strangers?”

The tension in Rye’s shoulders fell with a long sigh. “No. I can’t.” She turned back around to Kris. “It was odd though. You get jumped and the only thing taken was your phone?”

“Pretty sus right?” 

“Maybe we should tell Inspector Mattias to send him off into space.”

They chuckled lightly and Kris’ hand dropped from Rye’s shoulder. 

“Why don’t you head out? I’ll finish closing up.” Kris said.

“You sure?” Rye asked.

“Yeah. Besides, with my luck maybe a less beat up guy will come around and beg for a sour cream almond bar.” 

Rye snorted loudly as she moved to the kitchen door. “You trying to get laid for real Bjorgman? You know what they say about the sour cream lovers.”

“And how many times was I right about them?”

Rye’s laughter answered her in turn. Kris went back to finishing clean up in the open area. It was another half an hour before Rye left, insisting she wrap up the kitchen before abandoning her post. After she left, Kris finished locking everything up just before twilight truly began to settle over the harbor. She did, however, make a quick call to Inspector Mattias just to be on the safe side. He had agreed to keep an eye out for the newcomer who wandered into their bakery if only she agreed to cough up her poached pears recipe. 

As she trekked down the street to her car, her thoughts wandered to and fro about the Little Clover’s business, new recipes, Pappi, and the strawberry blonde man. Though he was slightly taller than her, he did appear gangly compared to her and Rye combined. Between the bloody nose, bruised cheek, and disheveled hair, he could have easily been mistaken for a severely beaten lefse bread. She frowned. Maybe she  _ had  _ been a little too harsh on him. She should have taken Rye’s lead. Given him the darn directions. Crack a smile even.

_That’s what you did last time too._ The dark voice in her head chided. _But we know what happened after that._ _You don’t want to make that mistake again, do you?_

“No,” she said out loud. “I don’t.”

Not again.

She would  _ never  _ make that same mistake again. 

Kris ran her hands over face, finally reaching her beat up Beetle in the library parking lot. She was overthinking as usual. She would go home, eat the soup Bulda had hidden for her, sleep, then get up to start the day by beating a fresh batch of dough. But, a small part of her couldn’t help but wonder. What had the man thought of those cookies?

Pepperkake. Her own recipe. She added a pinch of cranberry and more ginger than sugar, giving them a sweet kick that made people needing milk but always coming back for more. Rye said the man needed something to wake him up. Kris pondered longer. Did lips scrunch up at the lack of artificial sweetness? Did he sigh in relief at the way the cranberries soothed the ginger’s sting? Did he wish it was crunchier? 

Did he wish it was smothered in buttercream? Like she did.

Kris smacked her cheeks with her palms. It didn’t matter. He was gone, arrested or sleeping she didn’t know, but gone. There was enough excitement for her at home and the bakery. Besides, she knew people. He was probably nothing, but trouble from what she saw of him. So started her car and pulled off onto the tight knit road of the city. Ignoring the tiny question inside her asking--

_ What if? _

**Author's Note:**

> Here I am, making another AU instead of working on Empty Mirrors. LOL
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading :) I'd love to hear your thoughts below. Thank you for reading the start of Kristjana's baking journey and we'll see what happens next! Stay safe this weekend and many hugs.


End file.
